Smile For Me
by Xaviera Xylira
Summary: Ron writes a farewell letter to Hermione. Doesn't that sound fun? Oh, shut up. I wasn't talking to you.


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A/N: I realize that this is slightly unorthodox, but could you just go along with it if you're going to read it? Give it just a tiny little chance, and then, if you still think it's weird, go ahead and flame. But I hope you realize that flaming me will do nothing at all to hinder me. 

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Disclaimer: As if. 

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As I sit here in this cell, writing this, knowing that I will die tomorrow, I recall all the things that I love, and I close my eyes and remember them, painfully, tasting them and savoring them like the bittersweet memories they are. I look back on my childhood, the days where I was carefree and naive and quick to a temper about unimportant things, my days at Hogwarts, my friendship with you and Harry, my triumphs---_our_ triumphs---our laughter, our tears, and the times we just smiled because we had nothing else to worry about. 

I remember falling in love with you. 

Things have certainly changed since that first day at Hogwarts, haven't they? We have all seen so many things, and gone through so many trials, and we've stopped counting the days where we've woken up hoping this was all just some horrible nightmare. I remember how we all felt so safe at Hogwarts, like nothing would ever hurt us. We could stay at Hogwarts and be young and innocent for the rest of our lives, with only exams to fret about. 

And then we graduated and all the fantasies we didn't even know we'd been holding onto blew up in flames before our eyes, but we hardly realized what we were leaving behind. 

I'm sorry we will never be married, Hermione. I'm so sorry. Believe me, I want to; I want us to have a family together. I'm sorry we'll never get the chance. But I don't want you to be sad, and I don't want you to hurt. You may meet a man one day who will be given the ultimate gift of being your husband, and you will love him, and you will be happy. One day when this is all over. I only regret that it cannot be you and I who are happy together. 

Harry is also receiving a letter. The lost humans that bind me here have allowed me that, these last farewell letters. Take care of each other, Hermione. He needs you just as you need him. 

It is strange. I feel no anger any longer, no hatred. I feel as though I certainly should; tomorrow they will take my life away, and I should have some sort of antipathy towards them. Yet I don't. I am not sure what it is I feel right now. But know this. The Light will overcome the Dark. It is set in stone, inescapable, inevitable. They cannot change that. There will be a happy ending to this. And therefore you must go on and live. 

You know what I noticed today? As I was staring out into the sunset through my barred window, for perhaps the first time in all my twenty-two years of life, I realized that even though everyone is so different, so unique, that we all wake up to the same sun, and we all sleep under the same sky, and there is not one of us who breathes a special oxygen reserved for some higher class. Of course I knew this, but I was not conscious of its meaning. I am now. No one, not the highest ranking noble, not the purest of blood, not the most socially popular, has the right to act in the way that so many are acting today. No one. For even though all of us are so incredibly diverse in all that we do and say and think, we are _equal. _

I am but one single speck of sand in all that is our world of life. Soon I will be forgotten. That does not bother me. It is the spirit inside of me that needs to go on, and it shall. 

I don't exactly know why they are giving me an extra night to live. I have a feeling they want me to sit here and wallow in self pity, drowning myself in regret and loathing for all that has come to be. If that is the case, then I'm afraid they will be hopelessly disappointed, for after I am finished with these farewell letters, I will sit and stare out my cell window and watch the sunrise, a smile on my face, knowing that I would not have changed a thing about my life. 

I am not sure how they plan on killing me. I know you do not wish to hear of this now, but I know that you will plague yourself with restless thoughts of my death should it remain a mystery to you. I know that in the end, you will want to know. It is not likely that they will give me the Avada, as that is over quickly, and these people have never been the kind for just a little pain, have they? 

I do not fear the dawn, however. I do not feel fear any longer. I suppose that this is because I know that I have no reason to fear... 

As my mind shifts through every recollection that I have, I take every one of them and look at them individually. The morning will wait until I have finished remembering, so I do not have to worry about time. It seems that time is inching slowly now, as though in repentance for all the years and good times that have slipped through my fingers in the past. 

I love you. I have never been good with words, Hermione, you know that too well. I lack the articulacy required to write a love letter, which I'm sure is what you'd prefer, and I apologize for that. But I love you. With all my heart. 

I ask you one favor. Smile for me. 

Love to you always, 

Ron


End file.
